


Vengeance

by Melanthia13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Depressed John, Depression, F/F, F/M, Femslash, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Post Reichenbach, Revenge, Slash, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:18:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanthia13/pseuds/Melanthia13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock Holmes fell to his death he destroyed many lives.  Those that loved him and respected him lost the greatest man they had ever known and ever will know.  This doesn't sit well with one young woman who will do what she can to clear her brother's name and destroy those she feels are responsible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place post Reichenbach and at the beginning of the story Sherlock will just be a presence in memories. The main character will be an original female character of my creation. My hope is that she's not a Marysue, and I'll try not to go that route. Any constructive criticism is accepted and if you have any questions please feel free to review or send me a private message.
> 
> This is my first foray into the Sherlock fandom and I hope I do it justice. Thank you all in advance for reading and reviewing.

Kitty Riley stepped into her flat feeling pleased with herself. Her exclusive story on “the fake genius” Sherlock Holmes had just been sold to a thousand markets and movie rights were being optioned. After years of fighting for the front page and going to desperate lengths to find the story that would put her on the map and all it took was one night in a pub with a stranger to make her dreams come true. Smiling smugly she set her keys on the hook by her door and took out her mobile. She was so busy reading her emails and various accolades that she screamed in surprise as the light in the room turned on and when her eyes got used to the light she jumped again as she noticed a woman sitting in her reading chair, stroking her cat.

“Quite a nice flat you have here Miss Riley. I’d expect you to move to a more prominent location with your new notoriety. You are in the midst of your fifteen minutes of fame, it’s time to do all those nouveau riche things your heart desires before there’s a new kid on the block. Before someone cuts you down in your prime.” The woman smiled predatorily before she set the cat down and Kitty’s heart finally started to slow and she stood tall as she confronted the woman who was worryingly calm despite her breaking and entering.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my flat?” Kitty asked in a voice that belied her fear and the woman merely smiled wider and took a breath.

“My name is Electra and I’m here to make you see just how poisonous your pen is. Due to your salacious storytelling and untold ignorance a brilliant and wondrous man killed himself and you are going to pay for that.” The woman, Electra, spoke as she rose and Kitty found herself involuntarily taking a step back but quickly defended herself.

“That wasn’t my fault, it was Sherlock Holmes’ fault. His lies-” She desperately pleaded and the woman held up her hand.

“You misunderstand me Miss Riley. The brilliant and wondrous man I’m talking about IS Sherlock Holmes. You’ve spread lies about him and I’m here to teach you the value of honesty. I admit, you were played with like a cat with a string but still you were a part of Sherlock’s disgrace and subsequent death and that means you have to pay.” Electra said with a hint of malicious glee. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. I don’t like the mess of having to hire a cleaner and find a reasonable excuse to tell your family, it’s all just way too much to do for one worthless person.”

“What is it that makes me worthless?” Kitty asked, her pride coming to the fore and Electra clapped like an excited child.

“I just love it when my toys give me an opening like that, it’s just too easy. First of all you’ve got a pedestrian mind and think of yourself too highly. You aren’t brilliant, you never were and the string of barely passed courses in university prove as much. Secondly, you let emotion get the better of you and Sherlock offended you and you let your personal grudge come forward in your writing, showing just how flawed you truly are. Didn’t you learn in your courses that the first rule of investigative reporting is objectivity?” She asked and Kitty glared at her which caused Electra to smile sweetly and begin a further attack which was thwarted by her phone beeping. Lifting her finger to stall for a moment Electra picked up the phone and read the text.

J having a bad night -A

With a sigh that sounded like pure, unfiltered, sadness she put away her phone and raised her eyes to Kitty once more.

“Well darling, it looks like it’s your lucky day. Someone who’s actually worth something needs my help and I’d do anything for them. So here’s the cliffsnotes version of my speech. Your life will begin to unravel. First career then personal life will suffer. There’s nothing you can do to stop it and I will know if you approach the police. Doing so will just speed up the inevitable destruction. Have a good night Ms. Riley, it’s the last one you’ll have in a while.” With that Electra walked passed Kitty depositing her cat in her arms then left the apartment, looking for all the world like she was the one who lived there and Kitty was the interloper.

…

Walking up the steps of 221b Baker Street is a painful experience but it’s something she needs to do. With Sherlock’s death she had taken it upon herself to care for the one he left behind and she was going to do her very best. With a sigh she knocked on the door and luckily only had to wait a few moments for it to be answered by a harried looking Mrs. Hudson.

“Oh, Iffy dear, I’m so happy to see you. John’s in a bad way.” Mrs. Hudson said by way of greeting and Iffy, codename Electra, nodded.

“I had a feeling it was a bad night.” And Anthea warned me, she thought sadly. “Where is he, his room or the main flat?” 

“The main flat, he hasn’t left his armchair in hours.” Mrs. Hudson fretted and Iffy just nodded and rested her hand gently on the older woman’s arm before she walked silently past and up the steps to the flat. 

She took out the key she’d been given during her first emergency visit and let herself in, mindful to make noise so as not to spook John if he had his sig. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness when she entered the flat but it still took longer than anticipated to spot John. The man had folded in on himself, sitting hunched as fine tremors wracked his body anf Iffy felt relief. If he was to the sobbing stage that meant the worst was over. She’d just wished she would have been informed earlier so as to have prevented it. Straightening her shoulders she closed the door behind her and walked to the chair, kneeling down. As her head became level with John’s he looked up and she smiled warmly at him.

“Hello John.” She spoke quietly, soothingly, and he took a deep breath.

“Iffy, what are you doing here?” He asked and she smiled as she slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through his hair.

“I heard you were having a bad night.” Was all the explanation she gave and John nodded. He’d have to do another sweep for bugs sometime soon, it was the only way she could have known about this. “Want to talk about it?”

“Three years ago today I moved into this flat with the most brilliant and maddening man I’d ever known and now he’s gone.” John spoke simply and Iffy nodded as her eyes grew wet. There was a reason she implemented Stage One of her plan today of all days. It was the day her brother found the other half of his soul.

“He’s gone but you’re still here John, you’re here to live on and love on because he isn’t. He would hate to see you like this, he’d call you an idiot for getting so sentimental.” That got the desired laugh out of the man and she smiled a small smile as she continued. “Now, it’s late and you and I have to meet with Mr. Sardis tomorrow, unless you’re fine with me going alone?”

“No, I’m going with you. I don’t trust him. Alright, I’ll be fine. Would you stay the night?” John asked and Iffy smiled.

“Of course John, why don’t you head on to bed and I’ll go upstairs. I believe I left some clothes the last time I stayed over.” She squeezed his hand and stood before she helped him from the chair.

“Thank you for this Iffy, I didn’t know what to do with myself.” John said gratefully and Iffy pulled him into a hug.

“We’re family John, I’ll always be here if you need me. Goodnight.” Iffy let him go and nudged him off to the bedroom that he used to share with her brother . Once she heard the door click shut she buried her head in her hands and wept silently. Sherlock broke more than one person when he took his life and tonight reminded her painfully of just how broken she still was.


	2. Acquired Information

“You better have a good reason for being here.” Iffy spoke as she placed her shopping bags on her kitchen table and turned to the intruder to her flat.

“It’s good to see you too Iphigenia.” Mycroft spoke in his posh, nearly dismissive voice and she simply glared at him and crossed her arms. “Is it so wrong to wish to check up on my younger sister?”

“It is when I told you that I want nothing to do with you.” She continued to glare and felt a hint of triumph when he lowered his eyes briefly and sighed but her triumph was short lived as he looked back up.

“Perhaps you’ll change your mind when you see what I have for you.” He spoke as he moved over toward the table and set a file in front of her. “I heard that you were researching the reporter, Kitty Riley, and thought I would assist you. From what I understand you’re attempting to clear our brother’s name and destroy hers in the process. I wish to help in any way I can.”

Iphigenia uncrossed her arms and, keeping an eye on Mycroft, picked up the folder. Inside of it was a veritable goldmine of Kitty Riley’s indiscretions and means to control her from her favorite drinks and candy to her intimate predilections. Mycroft had evidently spent a lot of time collecting this research. Iphigenia was impressed and slightly touched that he would go to these lengths for Sherlock because, even though she was orchestrating it, this was all for him.

“Thank you Mycroft. This information is extremely useful and I’ll be sure to utilize it to its utmost effectiveness. Would you like some coffee? I was just about to brew some.” Iphigenia offered and Mycroft gave her a soft smile as he sat down. They still had a long way to go to get to where they were before but this was a start.

…

“This is absolutely wonderful Ms. Hollis. I must say it was a surprise to hear back from you so quickly, usually our freelance writers are...well...slackers.” Mr. Wilson said conspiratorially to his newest staff writer.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me Mr. Wilson. Writing is my passion and I’m always in the mood to write whether it’s an advice column or investigative report. Speaking of which, is it true that Kitty Riley’s been promoted to lead Investigative reporter?” She asked and Mr. Wilson smiled.

“That’s right, the girl got offers from the Times, the Guardian and a dozen other papers but she decided to stay loyal to the Sun. Our healthy pay raise didn’t hurt her loyalty either.” He gave her a grin at his cleverness and she simply smiled in return. It was so easy to get people to tell her everything. If people believe you’re impressed they’ll tell you their life story and if they think they can get something they want out of you they’ll tell you their family’s history as well. She was well aware of what Mr. Wilson wanted and had to hold back her smirk as she crossed her legs again, lingering a bit before the final move, fully aware that he saw what she wanted him to. He’d give her every pin number and password if she asked him now. A flash of knickers could do so much.

“I would love to meet her, she’s a bit of a hero to me.” She gave him that smile again and widened her eyes innocently, pleased when his pupils dilated further and he had started to flush. 

“Oh, I’m sure I can arrange something. Why don’t we discuss it over coffee?” He asked hopefully and she simply smiled and moved closer to his desk, being sure to bend enough to show her cleavage, tastefully displayed by a low, but not too low, scoop neck.

“I’d love to but, unfortunately, I have to meet a source for the current article I’m writing. Perhaps I can take a raincheck?” She asked and he let out a breath as she sat back again and uncrossed her legs once more. 

“That’s fine, we’ll schedule something when you send me a copy of your next article.” He smiled lasciviously and rose to reach his hand over his desk. She rose as well and took his hand, her eyes going to the obvious tent in his trousers. Hiding her smirk with a dip of her head she squeezed his hand. After that they said goodbyes and she left his office, smiling to herself as she saw the sign on Kitty Riley’s new office door. She hoped the journalist was enjoying herself now because soon her orderly little life would fall around her like a house of cards.

…

“So you have a new job?” John asked as he pushed the grocery cart and Iffy smiled as she handed him some pasta.

“It’s only a bit of a side job, I’m still a procurer.” She explained, referencing her self made career of locating and procuring rare items for collectors around the world.

“It’s still a new job. Are you sure about the Sun though?” He asked, his voice taking on the tone of despair it always did when he talked about something connected to Sherlock.

“Yes, John, I’m sure about the Sun. I need to do something, fix this somehow, the universe is out of order and I need to at least tidy up a corner of it.” She explained and John stopped in the middle of the aisle and forced Iphigenia to look at him.

“What are you planning Iffy?” John asked in a soft voice and Iphigenia suddenly found herself trying desperately to make an excuse to pacify John. Eventually she just settled on a very close version of the truth and hoped for the best.

“I’m going to clear my brother’s name and if ruining Kitty Riley’s life is a step toward that goal I’ll do it.” She spoke quietly but with a determination that caused John’s breath to catch as he looked into grey green eyes that burned with conviction. Eyes so like the ones belonging to the man he’d lost. He’d be lying if he said her eyes weren’t one of the reasons he relied on her. She was so unlike her brother in personality but not in looks and he took solace in that. 

“Promise me you’ll be safe and if you need anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to call me. Also, do your best not to hurt her, she was his victim too.” John held her gaze and watched as she tried to find the perfect thing to say. She was always more concerned with people’s feelings than her brother ever was but she was also more manipulative and he didn’t doubt for a second that she was manipulating him that very second. To what effect he didn’t know. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts he returned to watching her formulate the appropriate response.

“I love you John and respect your desire to protect everyone but if I need to hurt her I will and I’ll sleep well at night. She took him from us as surely as-” She stopped herself before she said the name that was like a knife in both of their hearts, “The ball is already rolling John and I can’t change it’s course.”

With a sigh and a nod he just let it go and they resumed their shopping. His fridge was empty and there was no way Iffy was going to let it stay that way. She would be damned if she’d stop taking care of him and let him stop caring for himself.


	3. Alias

Iphigenia Daphne Holmes was everything a Holmes was taught to be. She was intelligent, perceptive and held herself with a grace inherited from the generations of aristocratic blood pouring through her veins. Despite this she hated being a Holmes, she hated being posh, she hated the insipid little idiots she was expected to socialize with but, above all, she hated her name. Whatever possessed her dear Mummy to name her after two victims she would never understand. In a way it turned out to be one of the best things to happen to her, she decided to fight what her name represented. She was no one’s victim, she was a protector, she refused to let her name dictate who she was and she was never helpless. Sherlock’s death changed that.

When she’d heard about her brother’s jump from the top of St. Bart’s she’d felt truly helpless for the first time in her life. There was nothing she could do to save him, to fix the wrongs done to him. She fell into a crippling depression, not eating, not sleeping and going over every bit of information regarding his death. She had convinced herself that he faked his death, certain that Molly had done something to help him and he’d had a clever plan all along. Visiting Sherlock’s grave caused the reality of it all to come crashing down and she crumbled once more. Luckily, before she had a chance to reach rock bottom in her despair she ran into John during one of her restless nights and realized she’d been selfish, she’d made herself a victim. That realization led her on the path she was now undertaking. She wouldn’t be a victim anymore and she’d make those responsible for taking her brother from her pay. They’d lose everything like she did and she’d be the one to tear their world down. First on her list was the reporter who spread the lies. 

…

Kitty glared at the email she’d received from her source. Apparently he’d changed his mind about supplying her with the information she needed to expose his boss’s illegal gambling dens. The code was clear, someone had given him a better offer and she suspected who it was. The enigmatic and mysterious Electra who had been haunting her since that fateful night in her apartment. She’d seen the woman at least half a dozen times since then, outside of her apartment building, in the next table at the coffee shop and even using the treadmill in the gym where Kitty had her yoga class. It was starting to fray on her nerves but she’d be damned if she’d let the woman get the better of her. Closing her email she got up from her desk and made her way to the meeting room, there was apparently a new addition to the staff and Wilson had made the meeting mandatory for the writing staff. It irked her that even her celebrity status, that hadn’t left her regardless of the “fifteen minutes of fame” comment, couldn’t get her out of such boring meetings. Still, she was nothing if not professional so she walked into the room and immediately squeaked as her eyes landed on the source of her current state of nerves sitting next to the editor-in-chief.

“There she is! Come in, come in Kitty, it’s about time you showed up.” He chuckled and everyone else in the room snickered a bit. Kitty didn’t have many fans in the room, or friends, she thought bitterly. “Sit down, we’ve already started introductions so we’ll just continue. Daphne, dear, I’d like to introduce you to Kitty Riley our star. Kitty, this is Daphne Hollis, she’ll be our new crime reporter.”

“It’s such an honor to meet you Ms. Riley. I’m such a fan.” The woman stood and extended a hand to Kitty, her eyes full of challenge. Kitty knew that if she didn’t shake “Daphne’s” hand she’d look like a snob and that was the wrong thing to be.

“The pleasure is mine.” Kitty greeted as she took the woman’s hand, squeezing harder than necessary, surprised when “Daphne” nearly broke her hand in response. Smiling sweetly all the while. It was then that Kitty decided that she needed to formulate a plan to ruin “Daphne’s” reputation and get her to quit voluntarily. Not because she was afraid of her, oh no, she wasn’t afraid. If only her hammering heart would believe her.

…

“Hello, brother dear.” Iffy greeted as she answered her mobile. Not even needing to read the display. 

“Daphne Hollis?” Mycroft asked with an amused lilt to his voice. 

“Middle name and a variation of Holmes. I didn’t want the target or the stooge to realize I was Sherlock’s sibling. I’d immediately be met with suspicion and I never would have gotten the job that I have now. It’s working quite nicely. Kitty’s off balance and none of my coworkers are the least bit suspicious. They think I’m just a young, green, go-getter with more heart than brains. I never would have gotten through the door any other way.” Iffy explained as she leaned against the wall outside the coffee shop where she’d picked up coffee for her coworkers. Just another step in her campaign to win over her colleagues. “How did you find out? My article isn’t going to be published until Wednesday.”

“Iphigenia, or would you prefer Daphne?” There was that damned amused tone again. “Getting an advanced copy of the Sun is far from the most difficult thing I’ve ever accomplished, some would call it...easy…”

Iffy rolled her eyes and hung up. She had to go pick up her drink order and get to the office. She was officially a staff writer now, her freelance work had been such a success that the invitation had been made to become a full member of the Sun staff. Everything was on schedule and soon Iphigenia could start Stage Two of The Plan. She was looking forward to it.


	4. Predator and Prey

"Coffee!" Iffy announced as she set the drinks down on the table where they were immediately descended upon and consumed by the caffeine deprived staff. Since it was the fifth day of the staff receiving the gift of coffee, lattes and espresso they each knew which order was theirs and they knew it was perfect. Iphigenia had surprised them that first morning with all of their favorite drinks and all were impressed that she'd gotten them right without them even telling her what their favorites were. Not all were impressed, a certain ginger journalist was distrustful and suspicious of the other woman and her abilities, and rightfully so.

"No thank you, I already have some." Kitty smiled sweetly and lifted up her cup.

"Oh, alright." Iffy affected a dejected look and went around making sure everyone had their coffee's, earning sympathetic looks for her and disappointed looks for Kitty.

"You could be nicer you know, that young lady is just being sweet!" Carolyn, entertainment "reporter" and vicious gossip, hissed at Kitty.

"I can't be blamed for wanting to get my own coffee." Kitty defended herself and Carolyn simply rolled her eyes and went back to her desk, coffee in hand.

With one last look at the offending coffee and the woman bringing it Kitty walked into her office and shut the door with more force than necessary. While she was sulking Iphigenia smiled into her own coffee cup. Stage Two was working like a charm, the campaign to damage her reputation and make her a pariah in the office was working at lightning speed, it didn't hurt that she was already frightfully unpopular to begin with. Now that the office was turned against the ginger it was time for Iffy to start working on destroying Kitty's reputation with the world at large. After she set up her coffee cup she readied her fingers on the keys before she set to breaching the Sun's server. She had some articles to edit to her own specifications.

…

Iphigenia walked into work two days later with a spring in her step. Phase Two was up and running and by the end of the morning her "improvements" to Kitty's article would be discovered and the ginger journalist would be summarily chastised. Smiling secretly to herself she walked to her desk and began to set up her workstation for the day before she set to work. She had an article to write about a recent unsolved murder and she aimed to make the Met look as clueless and incompetent as they usually were. It didn't hurt that Lestrade was in charge of the case and had a lot of face to lose with the public. She hadn't forgiven him for turning on Sherlock and most likely never would. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply for a moment as she expelled the painful memory she listened to the sound of the office coming to life. She was the first one in and the rest had begun to trickle which caused her to relax a bit. Once the office filled she'd be able to see just how well her little edits worked.

"Hiya Daffy, did ya forget the coffee today?" Carolyn asked in that supposed-to-be-endearing voice that just sounded bratty.

"I ordered a delivery today, I had to come in and do some additional editing for my current article. The delivery should be within the hour." Iffy spoke confidently and with the air of one who couldn't be bothered with mundane things, the patented Holmesian way. Carolyn seemed a bit taken aback by the tone but smiled widely to cover it and moved a nearly imperceptible distance from the desk and Iffy smiled internally. Carolyn was one person in the office she didn't need to win over so putting a bit of distance was far from a bad thing.

"Ta dear, I'll see ya at lunch?" Carolyn asked, seemingly desperate to get the younger woman's approval again.

"Definitely." Iffy smiled a wide smile and Carolyn noticeably relaxed before she wandered away, placated. Iffy continued working on her article and was discussing the "incompetence and unprofessional behavior of Lestrade's team" when a shadow fell over her desk. She looked up and met the angry, accusing eyes of Kitty Riley and smirked in response.

"I know you did it, I don't know how but I'm sure it was you." Kitty said coldly and Iffy just continued to smile.

"Do you have any proof?" She asked, not even bothering to deny it.

"No, but I'll figure it out then I'll find a way to get you out of my life." Kitty glared and Iffy simply smiled sweetly.

"Be sure you find incontrovertible evidence dearie or I'll make a fuss about libel accusations and you wouldn't like that. Especially when everyone in the office sides with me. Not to mention that I'm above reproach." Her grin turned into a predatory one and Kitty suppressed a shiver and walked to her office. She had a retraction and an apology to write for publication in the next issue. "Daphne" won this round but Kitty would find out the truth and ruin her plans. She was a journalist after all and the truth never escaped her for long.

…

"Interesting article." John said simply as he set down his copy of the Sun in order to sip his tea that the waitress just set down.

"Which one?" Iffy asked as she grabbed her own tea and took a large gulp of it.

"The one that is a blatant criticism of the Met, particularly Greg and his team." His voice held a tone of disappointment but Iphigenia just smiled and took a smaller sip of her tea and set it down.

"All of my points were valid and I didn't use abusive language or write anything libelous. I made sure I was professional. Lestrade doesn't know I'm Daphne, does he?" Iffy asked, knowing John was starting a tentative friendship with the DI once more. Further proving that he has a forgiving nature, something the Holmeses did not.

"No he doesn't, he doesn't like her though. He wants to go to the Sun and take them to task, I convinced him it was the wrong thing to do." John took another sip of his tea before setting it down and moving back a bit so the waitress could set down his order. "He wonders if you, Iffy not Daphne, could assist with some cases, you do have deductive skills and he would keep your participation on a need to know basis. No one would need to know."

"I prefer to work for people I trust or can manipulate, you know that. How can I trust that he won't turn on me if his guard dog and her sex toy tell him to?" She asked in what she viewed as a reasonable tone but John couldn't suppress his eyeroll. She always reminded him of Sherlock in some ways and now was no different. She had sounded so much like Sherlock in that instance that he didn't know whether to feel hurt or annoyed. He settled on annoyed.

"I know Greg did wrong and Donovan and Anderson are irredeemable, but he loathes himself for it. He wants to tell you face to face how sorry he is but you blocked his number and leave as soon as you see him, no matter where you are. Just last week you left Tesco when he walked in, I remember because I was waiting for you in produce." John huffed and Iffy got an embarrassed smile on her face.

"I truly am sorry about that John. I know logically it's childish but that man hurt Sherlock and essentially broadcast his lack of faith. I have no doubt that that contributed to-" She cut herself off and sucked in a breath. She really hadn't wanted to discuss her brother but it seemed like her conversation with John always went back to that enigmatic man they both loved so dearly. "Anyway, it will take more than pretty words and contrite looks to get my forgiveness and it will take years of impeccable behavior to regain my trust."

"Did Mycroft find some way to cram decades worth of impeccable behavior into a few weeks?" John asked as he gave Iffy a questioning look and she closed her eyes for a second, not wanting to give anything away to the doctor. Taking a calming breath she opened her eyes once more and looked her dear friend and brother by choice.

"I haven't forgiven him but he's provided invaluable assistance when I've needed it. I also know that he's distraught over what he did and has been tirelessly working to clear our brother's name. It's a start." Iffy explained and John reached a hand over and took hers.

"Hey, I didn't want to cause a row. I'm glad you're finding some peace and, as always, I'll support you. Now, where is that waitress, I'm starving." He smiled and, to Iffy's relief, it reached his eyes. For so long she hadn't thought it possible for him to smile anymore but, with more and more frequency, he was proving her wrong and she was glad of it.

With a movement of Iffy's hand the waitress arrived with their meals, a full English for John and bangers, chips and eggs for Iffy. It caused John to smile a bit wider as he thought, once again, about just how different she was from Sherlock. He never had to worry about her eating or sleeping and he was glad, it meant he could worry about other things. Things like the meeting they were having that afternoon with a man he was sure was a member of the Russian Mafia. A man who hadn't been happy with the price Iffy had quoted him for the priceless book she had acquired for him. Yes, that was definitely something to worry about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to come out. I had a bit of dialogue that fought me dreadfully. I hope you like this chapter a bit and, as always, if you have any questions feel free to comment and I'll address them as soon as I'm able. Thank you all in advance for reading :)


	5. Confessions

“Keep your knickers on, I’m coming!” Iphigenia shouted as she made her way to the door, cursing as she stubbed her toe on the coffee table. Once she got to the door she looked through her peephole and groaned when she saw Mycroft but felt relief that he didn’t just walk into the flat. Looking at her hallway she picked up her shoes and her own knickers that had found their way there last night, she smiled as she thought about just why her knickers were on the floor and sighed. Things were about to get awkward. Even so she opened the door and Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“I see you had a good night.” He spoke before he brushed past her and walked down the hall to her living room. “Drink some water and take a paracetamol, I need you sober, or a close approximation to it.” 

“As you wish, Mother.” Iffy said brattily and Mycroft found himself smiling despite the feeling of disappointment resting in his chest. Iphigenia was supposed to be different from he and Sherlock. She was a social creature who used her intelligence to win people over rather than single herself out as an “other”. Her ambitions were civic minded and she was extremely responsible. Finding her hungover, smelling of sex with her clothes strewn about her apartment was not how he wished to ever find her, it reminded him too much of Sherlock’s bad days and he’d be damned if she’d ever fall into the path of addiction.

“Here, you’ve been lost in thought for a good ten minutes.” Iffy said as she placed a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of him and sat in the chair next to the sofa he was seated in. He was surprised when he looked up to find her clean and dressed in fresh clothes. Her eyes even seemed alert. “Don’t look at me like that, I know how to clean myself up.”

“You’re the only other person, aside from Anthea who prepares my coffee correctly.” He spoke almost absently before he looked at his sister and sighed before he got to the meat of this meeting. “You need to stop your pointed attack on the Metropolitan Police Service. You’re drawing far too much attention to yourself.”

“What have you heard?” Iphigenia asked and Mycroft almost breathed a sigh of relief. She was always more understanding and flexible than Sherlock.

“As you know I have your name and your aliases monitored to ensure that you’re protected at all times and have not been compromised. It appears that your Daphne Hollis alias has raised the ire of the upper echelon of the Met. They don’t like negative publicity and your article has been taken as gospel by the malcontents and anarchists of London.” He gave Iphigenia a stern look. “It appears you’ve been labeled a domestic terrorist and that’s something we cannot abide.”

“‘Domestic terrorist’? What kind of bollocks is that Mycroft?” She practically shouted before she took a deep breath. “You squashed any formal charges or inquiries, right?”

“Of course, but I think it would be best for you to gradually cut down on your attacks. If you stop completely they will be suspicious but a mellower approach will make it appear as though you’ve been sufficiently chastised by your superior.” Mycroft spoke with his quietly intimidating confidence and Iphigenia nodded. “I would also, personally, ask that you begin to treat Greg, Detective Inspector Lestrade, with respect.”

At the use of the DI’s first name Iffy looked up and noticed the look on her brother’s face. It was a look she’d only seen once and that hadn’t ended well for Mycroft at all. Not that she was thinking of his well being when the switch in her head flipped.

“I see how it is, you don’t want me picking on your boyfriend.” Iffy mocked before she stood and began to pace. “I would ask what brought you together but I don’t think I need to. Betrayal has a way of bringing people together as well as tearing them apart. You sold your brother to a madman and your paramour sold him out to his superiors. You make quite the pair, probably going to your disgustingly posh house at night and toasting your successes at destroying him. Oh won’t Mummy be pleased, her golden boy and the man who helped to kill her problem child together.”

She sneered at Mycroft before she resumed her pacing, ignoring the pained look on her brother’s face.

“You’re nothing but an arrogant, pompous git and I want you out of my life. I thought...I thought you were remorseful, I thought you were sorry for what you did but this proves me wrong. You don’t even know how to be sorry, how to feel anything other than self righteous.” She stopped pacing and placed her head in her hands before she backed against the wall and slid down. “Get out, I don’t want you anywhere near me, get out...just get out.”

She started to sob and kept repeating “get out” softly as Mycroft rose and walked to where she was. Once he was level with her he knelt down and reached for her. She shrunk back but when she could shrink back no more Mycroft put a hand on her shoulder before he pulled her into his arms. She stopped sobbing but continued to sniffle as he held her.

“You’re going to wrinkle your suit.” She stated certainly as he laid his head on top of hers, “And mess up your hair.”

“That doesn’t matter, your distress matter. You haven’t had a reaction like this in years, Iffy.” When he used her favored nickname she sobbed once, loudly before she caught herself and took several deep, calming, breaths.

“It..it all hit me. I’ve been so angry, so broken, and I’m so full of hate and so few outlets. I can’t...I can’t…” With that she dissolved into more sobs and Mycroft closed his eyes, hating the sight of his vibrant, lovely, sister so broken.

“Can’t what?” He asked, dreading her answer.

“I can’t stop this, any of it. I try to be so strong for John but it’s getting harder, every time I see him all I can think of is the fact that he needs something that’s not me.” Her voice was so full of despair that Mycroft almost missed the words she said but when they came to him he looked at her in shock or as much shock as he was able to convey.

“Are you in love with John?” Mycroft asked in a quiet voice and Iffy started laughing and continued until her sides started to hurt.

“In love with John? Oh Mycroft that’s ridiculous.” She laughed out before she moved out of his arms and stood, wiping her eyes before she gave Mycroft an almost fond look. “I do love John, he’s my brother by choice. It would be like incest, not to mention a horrible betrayal.”

As soon as the word betrayal came out of her mouth Iffy closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she looked at Mycroft who had risen and was beginning to smooth out the wrinkles on his insanely expensive suit. As he turned to look at her once more she gave him a deductive look then it turned thoughtful.

“I don’t know what to think about you anymore Mycroft. I can’t trust you and that’s the hardest thing about this. You were always the one unchanging aspect of my life. I knew I could count on you to support me, to protect me. I could count on you to care. Sherlock was always so...Sherlock. I never knew if he’d delete me from his mind one day or kip on my sofa the next. You though, you were as constant as the sun. Now, now I know that if it came down to it, my life over queen and country, you wouldn’t hesitate to end me and that hurts almost as much as knowing you sold out our brother to a madman, almost.” At her confession Mycroft looked at her and saw the heartbreak clear on her face and was struck speechless for possibly the first time in his life. Really though, what could he say to that? She’d hit the nail on the head, as the saying went, if it came down to her or the safety of the Crown he’d have to choose the Crown. It was his duty and it supplanted everything else in his life. 

“What can I say?” He asked in a voice that had the raw quality of emotion that he hated. Caring was not an advantage and this exchange proved it. 

“Nothing, because anything else than an affirmative would be a lie. I suppose this is something I must learn to accept because it’s the core of what makes you, you. Your sense of duty supercedes everything else and that sense gives you your confidence, your Mycroft-ness and despite everything I love you.” She gave him a look so raw, so intense that he had to force himself to keep her gaze. This entire morning had been so out of character for him that he needed to gain control of himself once more. “I will accept your presence in my life and your assistance with my goal but I can’t treat you like I used to. It hurts too much knowing that I’m just your pawn. I’d always hoped I was something more but that was a fool’s dream.”

“You are more Iphigenia, you’re as much my constant as I was yours. I will not be able to choose you over the greater good but I’m doing everything in my power to ensure that I never have to make that choice. I will not lose you.” He spoke the last with such conviction, such passion that Iphigenia practically sprinted the distance between them and pulled Mycroft into a hug that was returned. “I will never lose you.”

…

 

“ You sent for me, Sir?” Iffy asked as she stood at the doorway and looked in.

“Yes indeed, my dear, please come in and close the door.” He requested and Iffy did just as he requested, before she stood just inside the door and waited for further instructions. “Come in Daphne, luv, and please sit down.”

Iffy did as requested and sat down in the chair, being sure to smooth down her skirt and sit at an appropriate angle to show her cleavage a bit. If this was going to be a reprimand she wanted to have the upper hand and his lust for her was a valuable tool. As he looked her over his gaze landed in the appropriate spots and she smiled internally, there would be no reprimand today.

“So, Daphne, I’ve called you here to discuss your current article. I see that you’ve eased up on your criticism of the Met. Why is that? Have they threatened you?” Mr. Wilson asked and she did smile at the protective tone to his voice.

“No, Sir, I was just informed by a reliable source that the higher echelon at the Met is not happy with my criticism. I thought it would be prudent to step back for a bit. I will admit that I’m still looking for instances of corruption and ineptitude from the coppers.” Iffy reassured him and he smiled.

“That’s very good, your critiques have been our most read articles over the last few weeks. Your last article received over fifteen thousand hits, that’s close to Kitty’s record. I’m sure we can get numbers like that again if you punch this up a bit. Maybe go for someone else at Scotland Yard?” He asked hopefully and Iffy found herself smiling. She had all kinds of information and she wouldn't even have to attack Lestrade this time. It would keep Mycroft happy and allow her more freedom journalistically. She had the perfect targets and they were connected to her article.

“I think I can do that Sir, would you be willing to extend my deadline to finish?” She asked, knowing that the Sunday issue was the most read and the most visited online. It meant her article would be eclipsing Kitty’s current report, a very beneficial move on her part.

“Have it ready by Wednesday for inclusion in the Sunday edition.” He told her and rose, she followed suit a second later in order for him to get another view of her cleavage. After she stood they exchanged pleasantries before she walked out and sat at her desk. As she sat she noticed an envelope on her desk with her name written in a nondescript handwriting. She slowly raised her hand and picked it up, noting that it was unsealed and free of any marks to attest to its origins. Her curiosity was piqued so she opened the envelope and withdrew a simple white piece of printer paper, the brand that they used in the office and read the message:

I KNOW YOUR SECRET. MEET ME AT SPEEDY’S CAFE SUNDAY AT NOON. COME ALONE!

She found herself chuckling quietly as she read the note again and placed it back in the envelope. Kitty was becoming desperate if she would sink to these theatrics, it was good for her to be desperate. It meant Phase Two was going splendidly. With a secret smile she placed the envelope in her purse and unlocked her computer. She had an article to write and a Chief Superintendent to take down several pegs. She had the information and was definitely going to use it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay again. From now on expect at least one chapter a week but occasionally more if the mood strikes me. 
> 
> I hope Mycroft wasn't too out of character but I love him as a character and no matter how angry Iffy is at him he's still her big brother and she has an insane sense of loyalty and familial fealty. As for the Mystrade well... I love me some Mystrade almost as much as I love Johnlock so be expecting more to come. In fact, be expecting Lestrade and our favorite forensic pathologist to show up in the next chapter. Ta for now dear readers and remember that I love you all.
> 
> P.S. Sorry for the huge info dump but there were things that needed to be said and it was long past the time for the air to be cleared between the two. I hope I conveyed that well.


	6. Revelations

“Hold still.” John admonished Iffy as he began to clean the cut on her cheekbone, wincing as he saw just how deep it went. “You said you just got roughed up a bit?”

“I did, I’m fine John. I admit that I knew I needed medical attention which is precisely why I came to you. Dammit!” She cursed as he applied light pressure to the skin surrounded what he was now sure was a knife wound. Her cheekbone was definitely fractured. 

“What the hell happened Iffy?” He asked as he helped her remove her first layer of shirts and noticed her wince and favore her side.

“Just an angry client, nothing that hasn’t happened before. I ended up throwing his film canister in the Thames during the fight so I’ve had my revenge. That reminds me, I need you to come with me tomorrow, I need to collect something important from my safety deposit box.” Iffy requested before her breath was stolen from her by John prodding her ribs.

“No Iphigenia, I’m not going anywhere with you tomorrow because you’re going to A&E then, if you aren’t hospitalized, we’re coming back here and I’m putting you to bed where I can monitor you.” He used his “Captain Watson” voice and Iffy just smiled, or smiled as much as she was able to with a fractured cheekbone.

“I’ll make a deal with you, my dear John, I’ll take the rest of the week off work and stay here under your watchful eye. I’ll rest and undergo any impromptu medical procedures you deem appropriate. Please John, I don’t want to go to the hospital and have them force me to file a report. I hate dealing with the police.” Iffy grumbled and John placed his fingers on an unblemished part of her jaw and turned her eyes to him.

“What are you afraid of Iffy?” John asked and Iphigenia took a deep breath.

“I’m not afraid, I just know when it’s better to cut my losses. Mr. Smith-” She smirked at the alias, as if she didn’t know his real identity. “Is in a position where involvement with the police or any outside agency would be detrimental to me. Also, I’ve decided to go to Mycroft and have this taken care of discreetly. I can’t have future clients thinking they can use force on me, it’s a dangerous precedent.”

“You’re really going to Mycroft?” John asked, his voice betraying his distaste.

“Mycroft’s the only one who can touch him and I want him to pay for doing this to me.” Her voice turned to venom and John moved back fractionally before he remembered his training and went back to observing the various wounds that peppered Iffy’s face and body.

“Alright then, we’re going to Bart’s. You need x-rays and I don’t have the right equipment here.” He said and stood up but Iffy placed a hand on his arm.

“Why not the clinic? You still have access right?” She asked and John shook his head.

“I may have access but I need specialized equipment and I can only get that at St. Bart’s. I'll call Mike and get it set up. Sit there and don’t move.” He used his “Captain Watson” voice again and Iffy just gave him a look. It wasn’t as if she had the ability or inclination to go anywhere while her wounds still remained largely untended. Even so she sent Mycroft a lengthy text message explaining everything and giving up her client’s real name. She ended it with a request for his help and was pleased to receive a text with an affirmative answer in a matter of seconds. It allowed her to relax as she waited for John. She’d almost started to doze from the loss of the adrenaline in her system when a shout from outside the door startled her to alertness.

“John! There’s a car waiting for you downstairs. Oh, hello dear.” Mrs. Hudson greeted and Iffy gave a nod and suddenly the color drained from Mrs. Hudson’s face. “What happened to you dear? John!”

“What’s the matter Mrs. Hudson?” John asked as he hurried from his bedroom and saw Mrs. Hudson staring in horror at Iffy. “Don’t worry, I’m taking her to the hospital. Could you do me a favor?”

Mrs. Hudson nodded and he moved her gently out the door, not allowing her to look back at the injured girl.

“I need you to make up the bed upstairs for Iphigenia. She’s going to be staying with me for a few days and needs a clean, quiet, place to rest. If you could get white sheets and warm blankets I’d really appreciate it.” He continued to guide her toward the stairs and she stopped so she could turn to him.

“What happened to the poor dear? Was it one of those strange people she finds things for?” She asked and John nodded causing her face to take on a hint of anger. “Call Inspector Lestrade and have him sort this out, Iphigenia needs someone to take care of her for a change. Thank heavens she has you.”

“You’re right Mrs. Hudson, she needs someone to take care of her and I plan on doing just that. Thanks for this, really. I know you're not a housekeeper-” She cut him off and gave him a look he knew well.

“Family’s all we have in the end and that girl is family. Take good care of her John.” With that she moved to the steps and went downstairs to get the needed bedding. He smiled at her retreating form before he went to Iffy and saw her putting her coat on, stopping every few seconds to grimace in pain. Once the coat was on, with his added assistance they walked outside and found the car Mrs. Hudson had said was waiting for them and got inside once the passwords checked out, it wasn’t always Mycroft sending the cars. After that it was a smooth ride to St. Bart’s.

…

“Sit still, and don’t even think about bolting. I have to talk to Mike for a second.” John warned and Iffy rolled her eyes.

“I’m not him John, my body isn’t just my transport. I actually care about my health and wellbeing.” Iffy told him softly and John took a deep breath and nodded before he went to Mike’s office and left her in the hallway. She’d been sitting in her seat for all of two minutes when the worst thing that could have happened to her at that moment happened.

“Iphigenia? What in the bleedin’ hell happened to you?” As DI Lestrade’s voice registered in her brain she closed her eyes and willed herself to stay in her seat. She all but promised John she wouldn’t bolt and now she was faced with HIM.

“Not your concern Detective Inspector.” She said with a voice colder than liquid nitrogen and he just sighed and sat next to her.

“If someone hurt you this badly it’s my concern. Can you tell me what happened? I just want to help you.” He spoke sincerely and Iffy stared resolutely ahead. “If you don’t want to press charges I understand, just, please report it.” 

“Mycroft’s taking care of it, it’s not your concern.” She told him with a more neutral tone and he closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“Look, I know his connections and ability to hurt this guy are very appealing but this is something we should take care of. What if he attacked someone else or will attack someone else?” He asked and Iphigenia took out her phone and scrolled through the messages she missed.

“He won’t be attacking anyone else. It’s done.” She smiled slightly at her brother’s efficiency and put her phone back, hissing at the movement.

“Alright, there’s nothing I can do now, but can you tell me what happened?” He asked in his best “sympathetic cop” voice and she rolled her eyes, well the one eye that wasn’t swelled shut.

“If you must know, Detective Inspector, I had a client who wasn’t willing to pay for the film I procured for him and attempted to steal it from me. I responded by hitting him in the wrist with a black jack I had in my hand for such an occurrence and he responded by flailing at me with a small switchblade he’d secreted in his sleeve. He got away when I threw the film canister in the Thames. Then I took the back streets to 221b and John’s been taking care of me since. Is that enough information for you?” She recounted everything and looked at him steadily, causing him to look away.

“Jesus, Iffy…” Lestrade said slowly and Iphigenia tensed, he had no right to use her nickname, none at all, and he seemed to realize that and looked at her pleadingly. “I’m sorry Iphigenia, for everything. I...I never believed it, not really, there may have been a split second of doubt but that was it. It made me sick to do it but I had no choice. If I had I would’ve fought tooth and nail for Sherlock and I regret the fact that I didn’t more than you can possibly know. I loved him too.”

“You think I don’t know this?” She asked him softly before she continued. “Every movement of your body and the tone of your voice speaks of remorse and regret. You never wanted to turn on him, it makes you sick to think about it, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that when he needed your loyalty and support the most you turned on him. If Sherlock couldn’t trust you, what does that mean for the rest of us?”

At her question he turned his head and she studied him. His bowed head confirmed her earlier assessment of his guilt. Hands in a prayer position betrayed his Catholic heritage and again spoke of his remorse. The set of his shoulders showed that his inner thoughts were warring between duty and the betrayal he felt he was guilty of. Most important came at the end when he raised his head and looked at her, his eyes were proud but there was also a hint of his sorrow. The look was unmistakable, he would accept whatever decision she made in regards to their relationship and honor any stipulations she put on their interactions. As she pursed her lips her decision was made and she knew it was for the best but she didn’t like it.

“Mycroft is insecure about his appearance. If you notice him gaining weight, hold your tongue. If he loses weight make sure you praise him without mentioning why. It’s one route to domestic bliss.” Iffy told him as she gave him a look and he nodded solemnly.

“Donovan will be at the Masthead Pub for an engagement do on the fifteenth, hers.” His message was obvious. He wouldn’t raise a fuss if Iffy took her to task and she’d take this for what it was, an olive branch. Now they were even and the bridging process could begin. 

That was the end of their discussion and they sat in silence for a few minutes until John arrived with Mike in tow. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the two sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chairs but he quickly schooled his face and walked up to Iffy and Lestrade.

“Hey Greg, what brings you here?” John asked as he moved to stand by Iffy and subconsciously show his loyalty.

“Workin’ a case. They sent the body here so I thought I’d come ‘round and see what Molly’s found out.” Lestrade said as he scrubbed a hand over his face and John nodded before he turned to Iffy.

“Alright, Iffy, Mike’s got an exam room for us. It was good to see you Greg.” John said as he walked to Iphigenia and helped her up, paying attention to the way she held onto her side as she stood. With a nod of farewell they followed Mike to an exam room and Greg stood, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his chest for the first time in nearly three years. As he went toward the morgue he took out his mobile and sent a text to Mycroft apprising him of the ceasefire and was please to get a dinner invitation in response. Mycroft was the only good thing in his life lately and, with Iphigenia’s blessing, he could finally enjoy what they had together.

…

“I’ll be fine John.” Iffy groused as he stopped their progress for what had to be the dozenth time.

“I know you will but you have three broken ribs and a bruised lung, you need to take frequent breaks and not do anything stressful.” John was in full on doctor mode so Iffy decided not to fight him further. Especially not if she wanted him to go to the bank for her and retrieve the film. 

“John?” The soft voice caused both to turn and produced a smile on both faces. Molly smiled back as she walked up to them but her smile faltered when she saw Iffy’s face. “Iffy, what happened to you?”

Rather than rolling her eyes, as she was want to do since she’d been asked the question repeatedly for hours now, she simply moved her head to show the large gauze bandage that covered the laceration on her cheek. Molly made a sympathetic noise before she gently ran her fingertips over the bandage and up to Iffy’s eye which was already black and swollen, not noticing how Iffy moved imperceptibly into the touch. John noticed, however, and had to stop himself from raising his eyebrows or any other evidence to his surprise.

“Someone obviously hit you with a closed fist and if the small cut near your temple is any indication they were using a blade with a smooth edge, not serrated and the way you’re moving shows that you have some broken or bruised ribs. Oh you poor thing, did you go to Greg about this?” She asked, her eyes filled with sympathy and warmth.

“It’s being taken care of Molly. Now, I just need to get Iffy back to Baker Street where a bed and pain medication is waiting.” John spoke before Iffy could and Molly nodded.

“Is it ok if I stop by sometime this week, just to check on you?” Molly asked and again John had to school his face when he noticed a slight blush warm Iffy’s cheeks. He definitely had to have a talk with her about this later.

“That would be great. Maybe we could have dinner?” Iffy asked before she flinched a bit. Oh, John needed to talk to her.

“Oh great! I rarely get to spend time with living people lately. Should I bring anything?” Molly asked, either ignoring the grateful look on Iffy’s face or not noticing.

“Just your company.” Iffy turned a tad redder and John decided he needed to save the situation but Molly, inconceivably, did it for him.

“You’re flushing, you need to get home and into bed right away. That’s my opinion as a doctor. You also need to take better care of yourself and that’s my opinion as a friend.” She smiled and Iffy got a dopey look on her face, alerting John to the fact that they had to get out of there. The sooner, the better. 

“Thanks for your concern Molly, I’ll text you later and let you know how she’s doing. We have a car waiting for us that we need to get to.” John spoke as politely as he could, hating the brusqueness of his dismissal but Molly just waved a hand in dismissal and they exchanged goodbyes before John led Iffy out of the building and into the black sedan that was indeed waiting for them. As they settled into their respective seats John opened his mouth to speak and Iffy interrupted him.

“Don’t, just don’t.” It was all she said for the remainder of the ride and John held his tongue, knowing he wouldn’t get any answers. Iffy was a Holmes afterall and they kept secrets like no other.

…

The week went by agonizingly slowly for Iffy. Due to her injuries she was confined to either her bedroom or the sofa in the living room. John took care of her needs and offered entertainment. They played word games, scrabble and one memorable night he took down Cluedo for them to play and he was amused when he won. It probably helped his chances that that was the night that Molly came over. She proved to be quite the distraction for Iphigenia. Even so Iffy still refused to talk about her obvious crush and John honored her wish and kept his questions to himself. She’d tell him eventually so he could be patient. The only thing, other than Molly’s visit, that broke through the boredom was Iffy’s article. She spent her entire Tuesday double checking her facts and talking to Mycroft before it went out. Her boss gave her glowing praise for it and wasn’t even annoyed that she couldn’t come in for work, she just hoped he’d be as forgiving when she destroyed his premiere journalist.

As Sunday rolled around John deemed her well enough to go to Speedy’s for her confrontation with Kitty. His only caveat was that he sit in Speedy’s and watch to ensure that she didn’t get hurt or hurt Kitty. It was reasonable so at 11:50 on Sunday morning they found themselves in Speedy’s, John sat in the corner while Iffy sat with her back to the wall on the table closest to the outside window. She was sipping her tea and poking at her salad when Kitty walked in the door. She could tell from the ginger’s eye movements that she was making note of everything in the cafe, she was probably planning on writing an article about this “outing” Daphne to the masses. Iffy smiled, she’d like to see her try.

“Hello Miss Riley, would you care to join me?” Iffy asked, every bit of etiquette training she endured as a child coming through.

“Certainly, Miss Hollis.” Kitty said in a sickeningly sweet tone, completely at odds with the look on her face.

“Now, why have you asked to meet me?” Iffy asked, taking control of the conversation and allowing Kitty to see the damage to her face that she’d hidden with her hair.

“What the bloody hell happened to you?” Kitty asked before she could stop herself and Iffy smiled without joy.

“That’s my business and mine alone. Please, Miss Riley, tell me what it is that you claim to know? What “secret” did you discover?” Iffy asked in a tone that brooked no argument and Kitty’s eyes took on a hardened glint, she was enjoying herself already.

“Since you’re so eager.” Kitty said with a smirk as she took out a plane vanilla folder and placed it on the table. Iffy reached over and picked it up, wincing as her ribs protested the movement. When she opened it she raised her undamaged brow and took out the pictures within. There were pictures of her walking with John in the park, going into 221b, grocery shopping with John and the last one was of them having lunch in her favorite Indian restaurant. It disturbed her more than she cared to admit that this woman was having her followed. The content of the photos was nothing at all to worry about though.

“First of all, your superveillance of me and John is questionable at best and I will be going to my solicitor. Secondly, I fail to see why my friendship with John is supposed to be a secret. Finally, I’m trying to understand your motives for this. There are certainly other, more damning, things about me that you could use to blackmail me. That’s what this is meant to be isn’t it, blackmail?” Iffy asked, her voice sure and confident. It caused Kitty to falter for a moment before her resolve returned.

“Your relationship with Dr. John Watson, who I see is in the corner, provides a conflict of interest for you, It would be enough to cause you to lose your position on the staff. Since I wrote the series of articles condemning Sherlock Holmes and announcing his death this is suspicious at best. Not to mention the fact that you threatened me in his name and broke into my flat.” Kitty said as though it was the end of the argument and Iffy chuckled.

“First of all, I seriously doubt anyone would care that I’m friends with John or a Sherlock Holmes supporter. As for the alleged threats and breaking and entering… Do you have proof? Any solid evidence? If not, I bid you good day and good luck. You’ll need it if you plan on getting the best of me.” Iffy smiled and stood, making eye contact with John who also stood and led her out of the cafe. They walked to 221b and walked in, never once looking back. If they had they would have seen an angry ginger with a look of pure determination on her face. It was a look that promised bad things for Daphne Hollis, if she could just get that one step ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me forever to get off the ground but once I started writing I couldn't stop. The Molly segment was my favorite and the most fun bit of writing I've done in a while. I hope you guys don't think it's forced, especially since it was the plan I had from the beginning. Molly needs someone to love her and treat her with respect and who better than a Holmes to do that? Also, Iffy has not forgiven Lestrade but she's on her way to a new relationship with him, her brother loves him which means it's now her place to give him a chance. Anyway, thanks for reading and feel free to review if you wish. :)


	7. Small World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes a minor divergence from the rest in that I included a bit of text fic. I hope you all like it and thank you for reading and hopefully reviewing.
> 
>  
> 
> _The Texts show up as such:_  
>  Iffy
> 
> **John**
> 
> Kitty
> 
> _Mycroft_

Can you pick up some milk? -IH

I'm ready to start tearing down the wallpaper, so bored -IH

Where did you go? -IH

Forget first message, Mrs. Hudson made me biscuits and coffee. -IH

**I was at a job interview, didn't I tell you? -JW**

Of course, sorry, just a bit addled today -IH

**You ok? -JW**

Yeah, just got a few texts from Kitty. She's not as stupid as we thought if she found my number. I think she might actually know the truth. Going to have to tread carefully. -IH

**I'm stopping off at Tesco to get some essentials, then I'll be home and we can talk about it. -JW**

Sounds good, there's a marathon of Antiques Roadshow I'm watching. Mrs. Hudson doesn't appreciate my professional opinions. -IH

**Heh heh, don't worry, I appreciate your opinion. I'll be there in 15. -JW**

Thanks John :) -IH

…

Iffy sat on the sofa in 221b looking through her texts, yet again, while Mrs. Hudson warmed up the leftovers from the Chinese John had gotten them the night before. She was hungry and could do some things for herself but it was difficult for her to bend and pick things up. Reheating the leftovers wouldn't have been difficult but Mrs. Hudson had insisted on helping her and Iffy was never one to turn up her nose at the kindness of others.

"Here you are, Iffy dear, I put the rice in with the chicken like you wanted. Do you need anything else?" Mrs. Hudson really was a dear.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Iffy thanked her as she grabbed her chopsticks and stirred the remnants on the plate. "I'm fine for now, but really, truly, thank you for helping me over the last week. I appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it dear. I have to go downstairs for a bit but I'll pop up to check on you later." With that the older woman turned and left the flat while Iffy ate her leftovers in peace.

Soon after she'd scraped the last bit of rice off the plate she heard John come up the stairs and went immediately to the kitchen. Iffy followed suit and went in after him, going to the sink and placing her dishes into it.

"So, what do the texts say?" John asked as he placed groceries in the fridge.

"Here, you read them and I'll finish this." She handed John her phone before she resumed the unloading of groceries. His eyes narrowed as he read the texts.

U think ur so clever don't you? Ur not, I finally understand why ur doing this.

Daphne Hollis isn't real, no matter what the papers say

I will out u to the world. Ur a sham, a fraud, no different than ur hero

Watch ur step, I'll make u fall

"Jesus, are you sure this is Kitty, the number's unlisted?" He asked in an attempt to be the devil's advocate and Iffy nodded.

"Completely sure, I know her number as surely as she knows mine. Stupid really, you'd think someone who thinks they're so clever would at least try to mask the source of their message. I've decided to step up my plan. By the end of the month her career will be in shambles and everyone will second guess everything she's ever touched. I'll be able to truly start clearing his name." She smiled to herself and finished filling the fridge while John reread the texts. They almost seemed like a case of drunk dialing and he hoped that was the case, otherwise he'd have to go to Mycroft about this and he didn't want to.

…

**Three weeks later...**

Your texts have been received and analyzed. I have decided that they are an act of war and will be dealt with accordingly -DH

"What texts? Who is this?

Check your "Sent" messages. You know exactly who this is -DH

It's you, I thought you'd send the first volley. You're right, I do know exactly who you are. Iphigenia…

Oh good, you figured it out. I thought you would have figured it out sooner. Further proof of your inferior mind.. -IDH

Such a petty, juvenile, response. To quote your brother, you repel me.

You wish for me to be more adult, very well. I would like you to know that I have located your dealer, TJ, and have received very valuable information and have even received high quality, time stamped pictures of your recent visits. This information will be made public, only I will know the release date -IDH

I have no idea what you're talking about. Once I out you, you'll lose face and no one will believe you.

Check the front page of the Sun website. I've done it for you. -IDH

What?! How!?

The best way to invade an enemy camp is to surrender. I've surrendered and now I will take you down. Our previous attempts at mutual destruction were merely skirmishes. Now the war will begin. Remember that I'm a Holmes and we have a way of destroying those who have wronged us and you, my dear, have wronged us -IDH

I'm saving these texts, they're obvious threats.

Are you saving the one in which I mention your dealer? If so, I applaud your resolve. If not… Let's just say that I expected no less than cowardice from you. -IDH

Meet me at the coffee shop near the office in two hours. We're going to discuss this like rational adults.

It's too late for that Ms. Riley. Soon you'll be inundated with calls and if a sleek black car arrives to pick you up. I suggest you get in. It would be better for you to cooperate -IDH

Once Iffy shut off her phone she turned back to her computer and began typing away. In the three days since she'd received the first batch of texts she'd been working around the clock to bring her vendetta to a satisfying close. The hardest part had been outing herself to the staff at The Sun, she'd genuinely liked them but couldn't regret her deception. It had brought her closer to her goal and proven invaluable to her end game. It had also opened doors for her to continue her vengeance. She'd implanted enough mistakes, typos and incorrect information into Kitty's articles over the last three months to cause the public at large to question Kitty's word. The blog she'd been contributing to on the side hadn't hurt things either. Public opinion was moving into her corner and she was going to keep it there. The public had turned on Sherlock and now they were going to return to their natural place, on his side and Iffy was going to see it done.

Her first job of the day was to finish her write up for The Times. Mycroft had several favors that he called in for her and he supplied her with all the information she needed for her article on police corruption and the media. She made sure that she only included information on Kitty's role with bribing officials for the official documents related to Sherlock's suicide. Documents she used to write a piece condemning him further. Reports showed that she was involved in a sexual relationship with a member of the Chief Superintendent's staff. She also shared a drug dealer with Chief Superintendent Wallace's son. It was such a small world and so easy to see the strings connecting events and people. It was also easy, and extremely pleasurable, to weave the strings into a story that would help to eradicate two of the biggest offenders on the list of the condemned. Wallace may have been relatively spotless but his son was a walking rap sheet, or would have been if he'd ever been picked up or kept in jail. Wallace Jr. never seemed to answer for what he'd done and it wasn't just suspicious, it was a miscarriage of justice. One that she would exploit mercilessly for her end goal.

She smiled wickedly to herself and continued writing her expose, double and triple checking sources along the way. She was in the middle of writing a bridging paragraph when the downstairs buzzer sounded and startled a curse out of her. After saving her document in three different formats and locations she went to the intercom and turned on the camera, taking a deep breath as Lestrade and her brother came into view. Mycroft probably didn't want Lestrade to hurt her and she couldn't blame him. She didn't want lestrade to hurt her either. Still she buzzed them up and waited for the knock on the door. It happened far sooner than she anticipated, meaning Lestrade must have taken the steps two at a time. When she opened the door she took in his somewhat disheveled appearance and the anger radiating off him in waves. In an attempt to diffuse the tension she smiled her warmest smile and moved away from the door.

"Come in Detective Inspector, I was expecting you." She kept smiling as he moved past her and paced around her living room while she waited for Mycroft to arrive. He arrived a minute later, obviously having taken the elevator.

"Good afternoon Iphigenia. It's good to see you well again." Mycroft's words were genuine but there was an obvious strain, most likely due to the angry DI in her living room.

"Good afternoon Mycroft." She smiled another warm smile at him before she closed the door behind them and moved to the living room where Greg's paces had only slowed fractionally due to his lover's presence. "Have a seat, both of you."

Mycroft sat in the chair he'd designated as his long ago while Lestrade continued to pace though he slowed down when Iffy sat down on the sofa and watched him. He stood in front of her entertainment center and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I can't believe you're Daphne Hollis. You've made my life hell over the last few months. Wallace has tried to get me sacked more times than I can count and you're responsible for his newest vendetta. Jesus, Iphigenia, I knew you hated me but not this much." He ran a hand through his hair before he sat in the chair opposite Mycroft.

"I did hate you that much and still don't trust you, but I'm planning on making all this Wallace shit turn in your favor." She told him with complete honesty before she turned to Mycroft. "Have you shown him the documents?"

"Not yet, I was waiting for your article to see print." Mycroft's smooth voice caused Iffy to smile and she turned back to Lestrade.

"Since you are not allowed to see the documents at the moment all I can tell you is that every decision Wallace has been making for the last ten years will be called into question. Especially those decisions that involved reprimanding certain officers. Don't worry Greg, things will start to turn in your favor. Especially when you solve the most recent double murder you're working on. The perpetrator is the couple's grown son, he was angry about their recently adopted foster child and wanted to punish them. All the evidence is there for the viewing. I also think Donovan made numerous mistakes when questioning both the son and the social worker responsible for the adoption. She missed a very valuable opportunity to ask the son about his feelings regarding the new child. If you question him again and ask, he'll break down and you'll have your confession." Iffy's smile turned into a smirk and Lestrade shook his head.

"How did you find out about this case?" He asked and she smirked more if it were possible.

"I was bored and the Met's web security is laughable." She wasn't the least bit remorseful and Lestrade decided to let it go, especially after her next response. "You really are an excellent Detective, Greg, you just need to find a better team and learn more about respect and loyalty. Go on, yell at me. It's what you came here to do."

"You're right, I did come here to yell but you talked me out of it. You Holmeses seem to have that ability. Promise me you'll look after yourself. Wallace is a bastard and he won't be afraid to hurt you. Look at what he did to- " He cut himself off before he rose and looked at Mycroft. "I'm heading back to the station. I need to go arrest a murderer and question him again. Dinner later?"

"Of course, I'll have Robert take you to the station. I need to remain and discuss some important information with my sister." Mycroft sat regally and Lestrade nodded before he left without saying another word. It would have been rude if Mycroft and Iffy hadn't been conditioned by the best of the worst when it came to manners.

"Want to see what I have so far?" She asked and Mycroft nodded.

"Indeed." He responded and she brought Mycroft to her office and they whiled away the afternoon double and triple checking facts and resources. It was the most fun they'd had together since Iffy was a little girl and Mycroft taught her to play the piano. They always did work well together and now that work would bring them closer to clearing their brother's name.

…

_They have conducted a search of Ms. Riley's flat. Five grams of cocaine and a small amount of cannabis were found. -MH_

Oh dear me, that's not good for Ms. Riley's career or her life as she knows it. This drugs bust wouldn't have anything to do with a certain article in the Times, would it? IH

_Your sarcasm is commendable, sister dear. I would be interested to know whether it was planted or if it was Ms. Riley's personal collection. -MH_

The weed was hers and 1g of the coke, I just upped her supply to the amount needed for an "intent to supply" charge, even exaggerated. Greg should appreciate that. -IH

_He does and he is ensuring that she receives the maximum that she can be charged with. He is also enjoying the Chief Superintendent's shaming. They found cannabis, methamphetamine and what is known as an eight-ball in his son's bedroom as well as controlled substances in the Chief Superintendent's nightstand drawer. You were very thorough. -MH_

I only supplied the eight-ball, there's no way a kid like that could afford one. Again you will see amounts that will lead to an "intent to supply" charge. Greg doesn't suspect I had a hand in this part, does he? Also, how's the tooth? Was it another root canal? -IH

_Greg has suspicions that he's talking himself out of at the moment so you're safe. Concerning the tooth, I am doing well and it was a filling, not a root canal. -MH_

Good to know it's not serious and thank you for all of the updates. I have a phone interview in a few minutes with one of those current events shows so I need to go. Call me later and we'll go out for coffee if you can fit it in your schedule. I really do appreciate all of this My, truly. -IH

_You are most welcome Iphigenia though I will have to postpone the coffee until tomorrow. There is some business I need to get sorted this afternoon, though I will be available in case of an emergency. -MH_

That's fine, we'll go out to breakfast tomorrow. My treat and feel free to invite Greg, I'm starting to like him again. Gotta go, I'm getting a call. Love you My - IH

Once she sent her final text to Mycroft she picked up her more public mobile and answered. What followed was two hours of tedious, baiting, questions that she deftly turned in her favor and brought back to Sherlock as often as possible. She recorded a copy of the interview just in case they decided to creatively edit the material they had. She was more than willing to use the media to her advantage, she was well versed in it to be honest. As soon as she hung up she stretched and walked to her kitchen in desperate need for something fatty and sweet. She was disappointed to find her refrigerator devoid of sweets and many other, far more necessary things. With a sigh she closed the door and moved to the closet by her door and put on her coat and shoes, a trip to Tesco had become a necessity. Before she could grab her purse and head out the door her mobile rang, she checked the caller ID and didn't stop the smile from blossoming on her face.

"Hello." She greeted and tried not to sound eager.

"Hi, Iffy, I was...um...wondering if I could talk to you about something. It's not, um, that important but I was just hoping we could meet somewhere. If you're too busy I understand, I just think what you're doing for Sherlock is great and...Sorry, I'm rambling, I understand if you don't-" Molly's rambling voice brought a fond smile to Iffy's face and she cut Molly off before the pathologist could talk herself out of the meeting.

"That sounds wonderful Molly, when were you thinking?" he asked and closed her eyes when Molly sighed in relief. Maybe her hopeless crush wouldn't turn out to be so hopeless after all.

"Would now be fine? It's my day off and I was just spending time with my cat, I shouldn't have told you that. Anyway, I read the article and heard your podcast and was so touched by your message in the podcast that I felt a need to see you. I mean, I like to see you, I really like- I'm rambling again. So, do you want to meet?" Molly asked, her voice filled with trepidation.

"I would love to and, in fact, I was just on my way out the door. How do you feel about going to Aubergine Cafe? They have the best chocolate croissants outside of Paris." Iffy quickly grabbed her purse and keys and was out of her flat and heading down the stairs when she got the affirmative from Molly. After some pleasantries they hung up and Iffy couldn't keep the smile from her face, the day had started off pleasant and had now evolved into something truly wonderful.


	8. Time Goes By

Kitty sat behind the glass partition and awaited her visitor. She’d been in prison less than a week and was doing everything she could to broadcast her innocence. The prison had allowed some media in but, for the most part, Kitty was left to her own devices. She luckily was in a rather solitary portion of the prison and was grateful, she didn’t really feel like finding out which prison myths were true and which were only myths. She hoped her visitor was her lawyer or her brother but didn’t hold out much hope. What hope she did have died when she saw a familiar dark head walk into the room opposite and take the seat across from her.

“Hello, Kitty dear, how is life on the inside?” Iffy asked with a cheshire cat grin and Kitty ground her teeth.

“Here to see your handiwork?” Kitty asked and Iffy continued to smile as she shook her head and moved closer.

“No, I’m here to offer you a deal. It’s a very good one.” She assured the ginger before she continued. “In a week’s time you’ll be moved into the general population of prisoners and it’s an environment I’m sure you want no part of. In exchange for a guilty plea from you and a signed confession you will be moved to a private rehab facility to wait out a minimum sentence. Then, once out, you will move to a different country and never write again. I don’t care what else you do with your time or resources but if you publish anything, even a blog or under a different penname this deal becomes null and void and you’re back in prison. Under a different but equally serious charge. What do you say dear?”

“What happens if I don’t agree?” Kitty asked and Iffy’s smile turned predatory.

“You’ll find out just how much or how little your arse is worth. You’re fairly pretty so finding a prison wife shouldn’t be a problem.” Iffy spoke confidently and Kitty paled,

“Is there something I need to sign?” Kitty asked and Iffy nodded.

“Of course, your lawyer will be here in the morning with all the paperwork and information. You have until then to change your mind and I genuinely hope that you don’t” With that Iffy stood and smoothed out her skirt before she bent to speak once more. “Have a lovely day Kitty, I’m almost sorry to see our war come to an end. You almost made a worthy adversary.”

Once she had the final word Iffy rose and turned toward the door. Once she was out the guard arrived and escorted Kitty back to her cell. She contemplated the choice she’d been given and realized it was no choice at all. Electra had sworn her life would be ruined and Iphigenia delivered. With a sad smile, the tears finally started to roll down her cheeks and a mirthless chuckle bubbled in her throat. She’d lost everything and was absurdly grateful for the chance she’d been given, she just had to give up everything she’d ever loved.

…

“I told you, this is the best gelato in London.” Iffy said as she grinned at Molly who was enjoying her own gelato from Iffy’s favorite stand.

“Oh, this is so bad. Why do I let you talk me into eating so many sweets? I’ve gained three pounds in the last two months thanks to you. I’m starting to resemble a cow.” Molly smiled and Iffy stopped her and gave her a warm look.

“No, Molly, you don’t resemble a cow. You’re beautiful.” Iffy spoke without an ounce of teasing or a hint of a lie and Molly blushed. “I mean it, you’re beautiful. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Iffy ducked her head and turned back, hoping against hope that there was some way to salvage this meeting. She had a small bit of hope at the beginning of this new stage in their friendship that Molly might be attracted to her but, as time went by, she was losing that hope. She started to walk and Molly stopped her with a soft hand to her wrist, causing Iffy to close her eyes. She savoured every touch that Molly gave her no matter how innocent or inadvertent.

“Thank you for the compliment Iffy. It’s not something I hear often or at all really.” She gave Iffy the small smile that the other woman cherished and continued. “I was wondering...would you like to go to the Zoo with me on Saturday? They’re introducing a new bat and I think it would be interesting to see. It could be a...a date…”

Molly blushed bright red and Iphigenia was sure she was the same but she couldn’t have cared less how she looked. Her Molly had just asked her out on a date! She’d been so sure that Molly was one hundred percent straight but it appeared there was a margin of error there. She was silent for so long that Molly started looking nervous and stuttering and Iffy snapped out of her happy haze long enough to smile widely and take Molly’s hand.

“I’d be honored to go to the zoo on Saturday.” She turned toward Molly and resisted an urge to kiss her hand. Instead a thought flashed through her mind and her smile turned down. 

“What’s wrong?” Molly asked, her voice filled with concern and when she squeezed Iffy’s hand, Iffy smiled a small smile before she gently tugged Molly over to an empty bench near the gelato cart and had her sit down. She joined her immediately and took a deep breath before she spoke.

“I want you to know, first and foremost, that I consider you a dear friend and am attracted to you. More than that I care for you dearly. Regardless of this I don’t want you to think that you have to respond to my attraction by doing things you don’t wish to do. I will not be offended if you rescind the invitation for a date, just knowing you care is more than enough.” Iffy barely held back a sigh before she dipped her head. She really didn’t want to see the rejection at that moment. 

After a few moments of silence Iffy felt a small, deceptively soft hand, tilt her head. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut short by a pair of impossibly soft lips descending on her own. The kiss was chaste, brief, and Molly’s lips were dry but it was still a kiss that Iffy would claim as the greatest of her life. When they parted Iffy stared at Molly with wide eyes, still trying to make sense of everything while Molly smiled sheepishly.

“I hope that cleared up any misunderstandings. I asked you for the date because I’m attracted to you as well. I know I never, never gave you any indication that I might feel the same and that’s just because I’m not used to this. I’ve only ever been with one other woman and that didn’t work out well. I was afraid that I’d ruin this friendship and that is the last thing I wanted. You were so good at hiding your feelings that I was never sure if you felt the way I did. After your injuries things changed, you were more open about your feelings and it was flattering and terrifying all at once. I’m only sorry it took me this long to get up the courage to ask you.” She smiled and ducked her head for a second before she raised her eyes to Iffy’s once more and moved in for another kiss. This one was longer and was filled with everything they wanted to say to each other. Far too soon for Iffy’s liking they were forced apart by a catcall and Molly turned an attractive shade of red and giggled, her eyes shining as she pressed her forehead briefly to Iffy’s.

“I suppose that’s our cue to get moving.” Iffy laughed before standing and offering her hand to Molly who took it and looked bashful. “I believe there’s an amazing delicatessen around the block. Care for a late lunch?”

“I’d love a late lunch. We’ll make a date of it.” She giggled again and Iffy leaned in to kiss her gently before she led Molly around the corner. She didn’t want to lose a second of their first date.

…

John woke up feeling as though the world was crashing down upon him. He didn’t even have to look at the the calendar to see what day it was. The misery he felt was evidence enough. He’d spent the night before in the pub with Greg and Mike, trying to get pissed but losing interest in drinking after the first pint. He knew wallowing in his misery with the aid of alcohol would only make him more miserable. He had Harry to thank for that insight. Instead of getting drunk and moping, possibly sobbing bitterly in the middle of the pub, John had been animated. He’d talked about anything and everything, outlasting Mike and making Lestrade wait out the pub closing with him. He hadn’t wanted to go home and so he didn’t. When a black car arrived to take Greg home he tagged along and made the driver drop him off at one place he knew he was always welcome, even at nearly three o’clock in the morning. That was how he wound up in Iffy’s flat sleeping through his grief in her guest bedroom. With a sigh he sat up and ran his hands through his hair before scrubbing them over his face, he’d have to face the world at some point but now didn’t seem the right point. As he was about to crawl back into the bed and burrow under the covers there was a knock at the door.

“John, if you’re up there’s breakfast on the kitchen table. If you want some you can either help yourself or I can bring you a tray. Either option is acceptable.” John closed his eyes at Iffy’s voice as his stomach churned. The churning wasn’t from hunger but from the persistent nausea that had been plaguing him all week. The first anniversary of a lover’s death was a monumental affair and his body was reacting to it.

“I’ll be out...just...just give me a bit of time.” John requested and heard the obvious sound of a forehead hitting a door, followed by the sound of steadying breaths.

“Of course John, take as much time as you need. Just, let me know when you’re ready and we’ll go to the- You know what, when you’re ready we’ll talk about it.” Once she finished talking Iffy left the door and John was in solitude once more. He had arrived at Iffy’s because he hadn’t wanted to be alone, especially not today and now all he wanted was to mourn in peace. 

Rather than getting back into bed and pulling the quilt over his head John stood and found a set of clothes Iffy must have gotten for him before he woke up. He was grateful to see his favorite oatmeal jumper, the one Sherlock liked him in, and tugged it on once the rest of his clothes were on. He needed to be dressed so he could sneak out and head to the cemetery, he had to do it alone and he would. He’d made it out of the room and down the hallway without spotting Iphigenia but his hope that he could sneak past her was a fool’s hope. She was a Holmes afterall.

“Where a coat, it’s rather cold out.” She told him from her spot on the couch where she was watching a nature documentary and sipping tea.

“I’m sorry, I just need to do this alone.” He apologized and Iffy kept her face forward, knowing that the last thing John wanted at the moment was for her to look at him.

“Please don’t apologize John, I don’t understand exactly how you feel and a selfish part of me hopes I never know but I do understand the need to grieve alone.” She told him and he could see her spine go rigid as she fought to control her emotions. “Go on, John, I know you need to go and be alone with him. I’ll be there in a few hours with Molls and Mrs. Hudson.”

Her tone was a light dismissal and John nodded briefly as he caught his reflection in the telly, not surprised to see her monitoring him. With a deep breath John grabbed his coat and left the flat. Once outside he hailed a cab and looked up before he slid inside. He wasn’t surprised to see Iffy at the window so he raised a hand goodbye and she did the same in return before she moved from the window giving John the space to continue his journey, a journey he had hoped he’d never have to embark on but one he knew he had to do alone.

…

Three hours after leaving the flat John found himself sitting across from Sherlock’s headstone. The stone was etched in his memory, he could trace the elegant lines in the stone with his eye closed and spot every minute change. He’d stood in front with shoulders slumped and tears in his eyes until his leg could take no more and he sunk to the ground. John lost himself in his misery and was startled when he heard the noise of footsteps approaching the grave. He was grateful for them, his solitude was appreciated but he needed to be near people. Still John stood facing the marker as Iffy took the spot to his right and Mrs. Hudson the spot to the left. 

“We’re here John, for as long as you need us.” Iffy murmured quietly and took his hand. He held on tightly as the rest mourned.

Unbeknownst to them there was another presence in the cemetery. Inconspicuous with his mousey brown hair and anorak stood the man of the hour. He knew it was dangerous, so terribly dangerous but he needed to be there, to see his John. As soon as the small group left the gravestone to enter the black sedan waiting Sherlock melted into the shadows. He had a flight that he needed to be on and he was thankful for this indulgence, something to bolster him in the months to come.


	9. Extreme Suicides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so, soooooo sorry that I've taken so long to update this. My writer's block got the best of me and I found myself drawn from the Sherlock fandom for a bit. I blame the upcoming release of The Desolation of Smaug for that, it drew me back to The Hobbit where I'm still gravitating toward. I have another chapter planned before I take a bit of a hiatus. I want to watch the premiere of series 3 before I continue. I have a feeling the reveal in the episode will eclipse anything I can come up with and I want to be inspired by it.
> 
> On another note, the revenge is almost concluded. I have to say that I found myself at a bit of a creative drought once I put Kitty in prison but then I knew Donovan and Anderson needed their comeuppance. i had wonderful ideas until I saw the #SherlockLives trailer and I had to change some things. That being said there will be a confrontation with Anderson in the next chapter along with some relationship troubles, then the final part of the fic will deal with everyone coming to terms with Sherlock's return from the dead. Thank you all for reading and I hope you'll stick with me to the end.

She sat in the corner of the pub, the darkness providing cover and anonymity while she watched the women sitting around the table laughing and mocking one another. It was a typical hen night and was about to go to hell, at least she hoped it would. Molly had told her not to go, to leave it be but Iffy couldn’t, she couldn’t let Sergeant Donovan be happy when John would never truly be happy again. She also couldn’t let the woman’s fiance go through with this. He was an innocent and didn’t deserve to be betrayed by the woman who couldn’t seem to stay away from the ratface. She shivered, just thinking about Anderson was revolting, she had no idea how he was married with a mistress on the side. Shaking her head to dislodge the image that had just assaulted her mind. Steeling herself once more she watched Donovan laughing at something her girlfriend said and take a look around the bar. She looked in Iffy’s corner and the set of her shoulders betrayed her unease. It appeared her police woman’s instincts were still working properly. It was this unconscious acknowledgement that caused Iffy to set her plan into action. Unlike Kitty and the Chief Superintendent, Sergeant Donovan wouldn’t see the inside of a jail cell, her punishment would be far more subtle. Once she’d finished off her drink she rose from her seat and walked to the bar. Sergeant Donovan was celebrating and Iffy could help her celebration along.

…

Sally Donovan was a lot of things. She was an officer, a friend, a lover and a daughter. One thing she wasn’t was unobservant, observing her surroundings kept her safe and made her a damn fine copper, despite what a certain deceased fraud used to say. She internally flinched as she thought about Sherlock. She knew that she had no right to feel anything toward his death, positive or negative but she couldn’t help feeling bad about it. She may not have liked him but she didn’t want him dead. She especially didn’t want the lives of the people who loved him to be so utterly destroyed. She would remember the look on John Watson’s face as he was sitting in St. Bart’s until the day she died. She had never seen another human being so broken, so devastated, it tore her heart from her chest. She would also never forget the look on the sister’s face and the hateful vile that had spewed from her mouth directed at everyone in the police force but especially Sally and Lestrade. Sally had almost wanted to turn her badge in that day as the words sunk in. She did want to tear Sherlock down, she did want to see him fail, but she had never wanted him dead. No matter how much she hated him she never wanted him dead. She almost felt bad about labeling him a fraud and a liar but was stalwart in her convictions until everything about Sherlock’s case began to be questioned.

Over the last few months she’d been assaulted with news stories and interviews with experts in just about every field proving bit by bit that he hadn’t been a fraud and that he couldn’t have committed the crimes he was accused of. If it definitively came out that his name was clear Donovan was ready to admit she was wrong and send an honest apology to everyone hurt by this situation she felt so much responsibility for, the first on her list being John Watson. Shaking her head to clear her depressing thoughts she looked around the pub and took in everything. Their group was the only large group in the entire establishment. They were kept in one of the tables off to the side where they could see everything and have a small bit of privacy. She smiled at her best friend when she caught her eye but the smile dropped from her face when she noticed the person approaching their table with a tray of drinks.

“Hello ladies! Enjoying yourselves?” The posh voice was enough to make the hairs on Sally’s neck stand up but she kept her expression blank.

“Bit posh to be a server aren’t ya?” Her cousin Maureen slurred and Sally closed her eyes and sighed. Her cousin was about to be verbally flayed. She opened her eyes again when nothing happened and saw Holmes the youngest smiling at her cousin and the smile seemed genuine.

“I guess you’re right, I do sound a bit posh, it’s a good thing I’m not a server then.” She giggled, honest to god giggled, before she set the tray on an empty part of the table. “I’m here to congratulate Sergeant Donovan, Sally, on her impending nuptials. You see Sally here was a colleague of my brother’s so I thought it was only right to stop by when I saw her at the table. How are you Sally, dear, having a good night?”

Sally took the time to look at the younger woman, she was smiling at Sally but this one was forced, a little too sharp. It was a smile Sally didn’t trust and suddenly every red flag in her brain shot up. She was up to something and Sally had a feeling she was about to go the way of Kitty Riley and Chief Superintendent Wallace. All because she did what she thought was right. She wasn’t going down without a fight though.

“Yeah, it’s been great. Thanks for the congratulations. What’s on the tray?” She asked calling attention to the scattered shot glasses, enough for the party plus one it seemed.

“Since it’s a celebration and your friends seem intent on getting you pissed I thought I’d help. What we have here are Extreme Suicides, one ounce everclear and two cinnamon goldschlager. It seemed appropriate.” She continued to smile and Sally was chagrined to realize that she’d charmed the group and that none of them realized the significance of the drinks.

“Well if we’re drinkin’ your drinks can we have a name?” Her cousin asked and Sally internally blessed her. Once she said her name they’d realize why this was all wrong.

“Oh forgive me, my manners have been atrocious. I’m Iphigenia Holmes, I’d rather you called me Iffy since we’re going to be drinking buddies.” She spared another one of those genuine smiles to Maureen and Sally wanted to slap herself, she’d forgotten the girl’s name, the name that had been splashed across the media for the last month.

“Iphigenia? Was your mum a hippie or somethin’?” Maureen asked and Iphigenia shook her head.

“No, mummy is a scholar with an affinity for etymology and Classical literature. My elder brother’s were far luckier than I was.” Her smile turned sad and one of the others in the group turned to her.

“What are their names, Tom and Ben?” She asked and Iphigenia shook her head.

“No, Mycroft and...Sherlock…” She let it drift and turned her head to give Sally a pointed look.

“Sherlock Holmes? Oi, you poor girl! I’ve been readin’ up on him lately and what happened was just so sad. How are you?” Just like that Sally’s party was forgotten and Iffy sat at the end of the table and told Sally’s friends and family what it was like to be left behind and know there were people walking free who had a hand in what happened. After three more rounds, all paid for by Iffy, she stood and looked pointedly at Sally before she addressed the group.

“This has been great, really. I haven’t been out with a group in what feels like forever and I want to thank you all for being so gracious and hospitable. Now I have to go-” This was interrupted with whines and Iffy smiled. “I promised my partner I’d be home before two and it’s already midnight. I’d love to meet with you girls sometime if you’re up for it. In the meantime I need to talk to dear Sally in private for a minute. That alright Sally?”

“Of course, be back in a minute ladies. Don’t drink the pub dry.” This brought laughs and Iffy guided Sally to a nicely dark and shielded part of the pub near the exit and gave her a look before she reached in her pocket and took out a notebook which caused Sally to smirk. “Here to interview me for another article.”

“Oh no, not at all, I just want to take note of your reactions to a few things to decide how this proceeds. Ready?” Iffy asked and at Sally’s hesitant nod she continued. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, of course I am.” Sally stated in a strong voice but her eyes betrayed her. They were sad and weary, as though she had been trying to be happy for so long that her soul was exhausted.

“No you’re not. Next, are you in love with your fiance?” Iffy spoke quickly, knowing that the speed of her question would throw Sally off balance and allow more truth to slip through.

“Yes, why the bloody hell are you-” Sally practically snarled but Iffy pressed on.

“Lying again Sally, makes me think you can’t be trusted. Do you regret what happened to Sherlock Holmes?” Her tone was softer than before and Sally stopped her snarl.

“What?” Confusion reigned on the woman’s face along with a look of pure regret. It brought Iffy off balance momentarily.

“I see… Do you blame yourself for his death?” Iffy pressed on and Sally looked stricken.

“I had a hand in it.” Sally turned her eyes down and heard a sigh from the younger woman across from her.

“This certainly changes things. I can’t destroy you if you feel remorse. It shows that you’re able to change… Fine, now I want you to listen to me.” Iffy spoke quietly and Sally nodded before she could help herself, the damn girl made it so easy to follow her suggestions. “I want you to call off your wedding. You don’t love your fiance and it’s not fair to either of you to be caught in something like this. You’ll just end up bitterly resenting each other. Secondly, go to the Yard’s psych contact. You have a lot of unresolved issues you need to work through. Finally, if you ever come in contact with a genius even somewhat like Sherlock again, treat them with respect. Life isn’t easy for them, no one understands them and they’re constantly met with disgust and aggression. They hurt and they hurt you back. My brother wasn’t a sociopath Sally, he felt everything and he felt it sharper and deeper than you could even imagine. I want you to consider that. Now, I’m going to leave but I’m going to check on you again.”

“Why?” Sally asked her eyes glittering with the start of tears.

“To make sure you listened to me. This whole thing started as revenge, and I still blame you for your part in it, but I can’t hate you. I can’t hate someone who feels so much remorse and harbors so much guilt, far more guilt than they’re even conscious of. Just do what I told you to and I’ll hold back on visiting you.” Iffy placed a sympathetic hand on Sally’s shoulder before she moved her hand away and grabbed her coat from the rack. “Now I really have to go, my lady is waiting for me.”

Iffy walked past Sally and moved out the door, not even looking back at the policewoman whose shoulders were shaking in silent sobs. Molly was waiting for her and would be upset if she didn’t show up. Besides she had to share this change in plans with her and hope that Molly understood. She didn’t have to worry though, Molly always seemed to understand.


End file.
